Luyện nghe bài hát It Was Written [Explicit]

Six million to die
(Took a lot to get Rollie nigga)
Six million to get rich
(Huh, hah)

Everybody keep telling me "make a record"
You ain't trapping no more, stop drug records
You got a daughter to come, stop making thug records
I brought that money back fast, I had the flexing
Welcome to Harlem, el Barrio, the drug section
Hit your bitch with my jeans on, ain't making naked
I got for my loco but I know cuz reckless
I gotta sleep in the projects, I did enough stressing
My father was a rolling stone but taught me one
Do your dirt by yourself, your friends be the telling
I knew it broke my mother's to know her son selling
I had coke in my dresser, as ever
I had a Biggie featured me on Life After
I be my same niggas, I don't really like rappers
Niggas can't a song for nothing but they nice actors
Go and get a movie role, low bagging up tuna rolls, raw
I come from a where you seen it but never saw shit
I be at the juice bar, my wheat grass and bark
My just came from up north, he want to park shit
Tryna teach him something life and how we started
Lower poverty, homies from jail calling me
Playing the everyday but never hit the lottery
store on every corner, might as well get drunk
I remember that free lunch wasn't shooting, we would stones
Niggas like the end of the blunt, traps up
I papi I got him by the end of the month
I was thinking bout 550's with the cinnamon
shots'll blow your mind away, now your memory dust
And of, I got a JF Kennedy buzz
Presidential called enterprise, I need rental
Tryna take a package down to North
Maybe buy some Ferrigamo, I'm so on the commas

If you never been broke gon' be hard to feel me
Only Allah get my flow, it's gon' be hard to me
say practice make perfect, we at it every day
Thinking about that consignment, I never paid
It was written I'm gifted, come learn something
Conversations bout paper homie, let's burn
It was written I'm gifted, come learn something
bout paper homie, let's burn something

It's hard to what's already in motion
I ain't gotta hit your blunt, I've been smoking
G Star denims on my shit
In '08 my mental was really on some shit
Cause nothing was work
to pass the time started working out
Me and my nigga Jay from way back
He a Bronx nigga, met him in
Butch crib, met up fiends
Imagine Nas signed you, hell of a
Somebody me
nothing they say ever getting to me
Used to House Party, not kidding play listen to me
This that talk that make the hustlers want to shop
This stash house talk, don't let 'em know the spot
This that talk got my city wanting to rap again
that all black everything like an African
This that middle of the summer in a coat
Glock 19 them of how you been broke

If you never been broke it's gon' be hard to me
Only Allah get my flow, it's be hard to kill me
They say make perfect, we at it every day
Thinking about that consignment, sometimes I paid
It was I'm gifted, homie come learn something
bout paper homie, let's burn something
It was written I'm gifted, come learn something
Conversations paper homie, let's burn something

I talked my way up out the projects nigga
Put your mind to it, anything is possible
From a hole in the wall,
Now we in the suite man
Top floor, flower for your bust
Harlem,